The Book of My Life
by AngelWing1138
Summary: Eight different lifes. Four different stories. Two different endings. One love. R/S D/Z C/L A/R
1. The Slave

A/N: I tried writing this before and it...Kinda failed. xD So after a long time thinking about it and leaving it alone, I've decided to take a whack at it again. Now, I know I have a few other stories going on, and if you read any of them I'm sorry. I just write what I feel like writing, okay? You have to keep patience with me. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this! It's inspired by the song Sting sings.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts (II, CoM) Characters belong to Square Enix and Disney.

* * *

He did not clearly remember the day that his father was sent away to war.

It was all a blur to him; a hot day, his mother making breakfast, his father reading a book on his cushion, detailed with fine details made by the genius craftswoman of the village. He remembered the smell of spices; Mother had been making his very favourite, and he was starting to get fidgety with hunger. Suddenly, there was a call from the door. He remembered his father standing and going to the door. There were…voices, after that; soft, hurried voices, speaking of secret things. Finally, the voices stopped, and Father came back to Mother and him, staring at them with a look he didn't remember Father ever having on his face before.

Father said something to Mother; Mother started to cry, gathering him into her strong arms that smelled of spices and her soothing oils that she bathed in every day. He remembered watching with wide eyes as Father then turned and left the room, walking out of the house after collecting the sword he never used and the armour that still glowed with its first polishing job. He watched from the window as a cart came for Father hours later, Father having been standing there waiting, before he climbed in and turned his back on his home, wife and child. Mother was still crying, breakfast long since past and ruined. He didn't understand; why was his father going away?

It wasn't until days later that he realized why his father went away. That was the day that he remembered clearest. His mother was cleaning the house, her eyes red from crying again. He was sitting on Father's cushion, reading one of his books, trying to pronounce a word that he _didn't_ quite understand when there was a sudden call from the door, just like the day Father had left them. His mother looked up, startled, before she told him to stay put and walked to the door. He, being an obedient child, stayed in his seat. That is, he did until he heard the men's voices at the door pick up.

'It's time for taxes, Missus,'

He remembered the voice being very crude.

'What taxes? I don't remember there being any taxes in this village.'

His mother's voice was as soft as flower petals, he remembered that too. He loved listening to her sing.

'Widower taxes, Missus. Seein' as you's be a widow and all, we thought we'd come an' collect like we're supposed ta.'

The man spoke very badly, he remember that too. His father would be horrified. The thought made him smile even now.

'Widower taxes?! I am not a widow! My husband, he's just—he's serving for our King!'

His mother's voice had risen very shrilly then, he remembered that. He had gotten up, walking towards the door quietly to see why she was getting upset.

'Sorry, Missus, but…Yer on our list.' The shuffle of paper, Mother's gasp, and the man's awkward coughing. 'So, if ya wouldn't mind…Widower's taxes.'

What were widower's taxes, anyway? He peeked around the corner, looking at his mother's back. She had long, beautiful blue/black hair. He played with it all the time and it felt like the finest silk that the Southern continent could make. It wasn't combed that day, tangled in knots.

'….No,' her voice was soft but strong. 'You're lying, my husband…He's still on this earth! Mother Faithful, our Lady Goddess, would never take him away from me until he and I were both ready!'

Mother Faithful was their family's patron god and the most powerful out of the 400 gods that there was. It was one of the first lessons he learned ever since he could learn. It was very important that he knew about Mother Faithful, for she would be whom he would pray to every night for the rest of his life.

'Missus,' the voice paused, the curtain shifted, and Mother's voice screamed. 'Widower's tax, please.'

'I have no children,'

Why would she say that?

'You have a son, 6 years old. Skinny, but he'll be good.'

'He…he died!'

He wasn't dead!

'We saw him the other day.'

'He got ran over by a cart. Horrible, I've been crying about it for days. My eyes are red, don't you see? How dare you come here, telling me my husband is gone, when my son has just left this earth of Mother Faithful's?'

'Missus, we see him.'

He remembered Mother whipping back to see him, her grey eyes wide and terrified as he stood there with wide, identical eyes. The man at the door was stooped and grey, gnarled like an old wooden staff Uncle used to use to walk before he lost his legs. The man hobbled in, grabbing him and yanking him to him. He cried out in pain, looking at his mother with wide eyes.

'Don't take him! DON'T TAKE HIM FROM ME!'

She was being held back by a stronger looking, younger male with blonde hair and cool blue eyes, though he seemed to hold pity towards the two.

'Sorry, Missus,' the man's voice hurt his ears when he was this close. 'Can't do that.'

Where was he being taken?

'Widower's tax.'

* * *

_Zexion…_

His mother's voice? He hadn't heard that voice in ages. Beautiful, just as he remembered. Pure, just as he remembered…Before everything happened, that is.

_Zexion…_

She was sounding kind of impatient. Why was that? Had he forgotten to do something again? He thought back. He washed his hands, brushed his hair, cleaned his teeth, put away all of his toys and Father's cushion…

_ZEX-I-ON!_

….She never yelled like that.

Opening his eyes slowly, grey irises staring up at the ceiling for a second, he tried to remember where he was. His body ached, his throat was dry, and his head was resting on the most uncomfortable pillow in all of existence. Sitting up, a sheet slipped down to pool at his waist, covering his naked body. He licking cracked lips slowly, tasting dried blood before he sighed. He pushed back hair that fell in front of his face, looking around tiredly before catching sight of a lean, feminine figure at the window. The sky was barely grey. It was dawn.

"Oh good, you're up," the voice spoke, very irritatingly so, before a redheaded girl leaned forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "You, my good sir, are in a whole heap of trouble. You've slept in."

"What…?" Zexion shook his head gathering his bearings before suddenly remembering that he wasn't six, he wasn't in his home, he wasn't with his mother, and he was very far from his old life. He sighed. "Right…"

"Dreams again?" The redheaded girl asked, leaning back against the wall. He could see her clearly now: red hair that fell to her shoulder, wide blue eyes that held mischief, pale skin, simple pale dress. Zexion nodded mutely, standing and tying the sheet around his waist to create a long skirt, common among his rank. "About her?"

"Mm," Zexion sighed, looking at the girl. "Kairi, why did you wake me up? You have to serve breakfast to the Queen."

"You were running late. I was sent to fetch you." She grinned brightly, pushing off the wall and skipping over to him. He was taller than her by quite a few inches, yet he was around her weight and size. Kairi always complained he looked prettier than her, but he had been noticing lately that she was sneaking extra food onto his plate. He didn't say anything though, since she was trying to be sneaky about it and only he had realized what was going on. "But I can forgive you! You were dreaming. Dreams are very important."

"They also are fantasy," Zexion said quietly, walking over to his bowl of warm water. He knelt, dipping his hands into the water and splashing his face, using his skirt to dry his face off. Kairi pouted over his shoulder, watching him quietly. "You know that, though."

"Your mother wasn't fantasy."

"…" Zexion frowned, looking at his hands. "She feels like one." He sighed, standing up before turning to look at her. "Well? What are we waiting for? We're running late as it is."

"And whose fault is _that_?"

"Yours, since you let me dream."

"Exac—wait, what!?"

Zexion smiled secretly as he walked down the halls in large strides, Kairi jogging to keep up with him. They entered the kitchen quietly as an elderly man with blonde hair cropped short finished setting up the trays of breakfast. He glared up at the two, narrowing blue eyes. "Yer damn late!" He yelled, pointing at the trays. "Zexion, you're brining the trays to the princes! Kairi, to the Queen! GET MOVIN'!"

"Yes Cid," the two said, bowing lightly to him, hiding smiles at his behaviour. Zexion then straightened, grabbing the trays of food and walking out of the kitchen towards the Great Hall.

His bare feet slapped the marble ground, browns, gold, greens and pale blues woven together to create a beautiful mixture of colour, light and art. The make-shift skirt he wore, signifying his rank in the palace, shuffled along the smooth ground, his breathing echoing quietly back to his sensitive ears. The smells of spices, herbs and sweet hit his nose from the breakfast trays, and he knew Cid had made the princes' favourite. It had once been his favourite, too, but he hadn't touched it since he was but a child.

He entered the Great Hall, heading towards the staircase and walking them up quickly, fluently, and gracefully. He heard Kairi walking behind him a few paces back, muttering to herself as she kept her tray steady. He felt her jealous glares and hid another smile from her. She was too much fun to work with. Finally he came to the top of the stair and took the left instead of the right; Kairi took the right. He walked down the halls, lowering his eyes as he passed royal priests, royal guards and one or two courtiers that were up this early, dressed in their morning best. He paused in front of a long, heavy velvet curtain then, watching as the guard stared at him accusingly before nodding, opening the curtain for him. Zexion stepped inside.

The room was large and extravagant, the smells of perfume hitting him in the face as soon as he walked in. It smelt floral yet spicy, and there was some smoke hanging to the air, clinging to him and everything within. There were multiple cushions of every colour and every pattern, tapestries hanging along the walls and across the ceiling. Candles were placed thoughtfully and were all lit, creating a warm glow. In the middle lay an extravagant bed, pillows covering it. It matched the room in rich blues, greens and purples, with gold and silver lining everything everywhere. Underneath the silken blue sheets was a moving lump, and Zexion had to smile at the sight. He walked towards the bed then, kneeling at the side and placing down a food tray, holding the other one up above his head as he bowed quietly before slowly sitting up. He watched for a moment, noting that the lump was no longer moving.

Suddenly, the sheets were pushed back by a graceful yet strong hand, and dark blue, tired eyes peered at him from within the darkness. He watched the eyes carefully, observing as slowly the lump started to sit up, showing a young man of 20 years old, two years his junior yet so much more important than him. Blonde hair fell in his eyes and spiked everywhere wildly, though when it was touched it was feather short and bendable. His skin was pale, translucent yet firm on his muscled body, his naked chest wide, shoulders sturdy and arms capable of protecting himself. He was strongly built yet angular, thin to the untrained eye. His face was angular as well to match him, soft and beautiful with sad blue eyes. Scratching the back of his head, the blue eyed prince looked at Zexion quietly, before smiling softly, his smile just as small as Zexion's own.

"Thank you, Zexion," he spoke then, turning and arranging his blankets around him so that he would not reveal any more skin. Zexion lowered his eyes, bowing deeply again and he heard the prince sigh softly. "Please don't do that."

"Forgive me, Highness," Zexion murmured quietly, raising slowly to his feet as the younger male took his breakfast, picking up a piece of sweet-tasting bread that had certain spices in it to make it taste even sweeter. The West called it 'cinnamon'.

"And don't call me 'Highness' either. We've known each other since we were small, and you're older than me. Call me Cloud."

Zexion smiled a little, as this was common between the two of them. He could see Cloud smiling a little too, yet his eyes looked hopeful. They always looked hopeful.

"Forgive me, Highness. I cannot," he replied as he usually did, bowing his head before turning. "I wish you a good morning."

"…You as well," Cloud murmured, watching Zexion as he walked out, the curtain being held open for him by a guard. Zexion heard the boy sigh before he walked down the hall again.

Once again he paused in front of a heavy curtain just a few feet down from Cloud's room. Once again a guard examined the food that he held in his hands. Once again a heavy velvet curtain opened and he was allowed entrance into the room.

This room was not as bejewelled as Cloud's room. It had more candles, some tall and new, others down to the last bit of wax, yet all of them burning to create the same warm glow. Pillows covered the floor as did hundreds of books, some opened, others closed, and a few being rebound. Tapestries, clothes and a few blankets were strewn about everywhere, covering the walls and ceiling and floors. In the middle was the same large extravagant bed, coloured in blues, purples and yellows to match his room. Yet instead of a breathing lump, a young male sat up in his bed, clutching a book and reading intently.

The boy was identical to Cloud, blonde spiky hair and blue eyes, though his weren't as sad as the other prince. He had his blankets covering him as Cloud did, though there was a blanket over his shoulders too, shrouding him from view. He was thinner than Cloud, not as strong as him, with gentle, slim shoulders and a lithe waist and chest. He was a littler darker than Cloud, spending a lot of time in the sun so that he could read whatever held his interest at that moment. Zexion smiled at the sight as the boy leaned closer to the book, totally enraptured and unaware that the older servant boy was there. He seemed to be 17 years, making him younger than Zexion by 5 years, yet he was much more important than him much like Cloud. He came to the bed, kneeling beside it and placing the tray on the floor, bowing deeply until his nose touched the cloth covered marble ground.

Slowly as he sat up after a few moments, he saw the boy twitch, slowly realizing he wasn't alone. Eye flicked over to him than back to his page before they widened. The book was suddenly tossed to the side and the boy was flying at him, wrapping his arms around Zexion and hugging him, grinning widely.

"Zexion you're finally here! I woke up and you weren't here so I was worried something bad had happened to you!" The boy laughed after he spoke, squeezing Zexion tightly. Zexion coughed, laughing and patting the boy's back, trying to get him off. It was very strange to have a naked prince hugging you, after all.

"Sire, please,"

"Oh, right!" The boy lurched back, running a hand through his hair before grinning. "And dang it all, Zexion! Call me Roxas!"

Zexion sighed, smiling at the boy as he stood up, shaking his head and rearranging his skirt. "Sire you know I can't do that," he said quietly, looking at Roxas as he stared up at him in interest. "…Eat your breakfast now, Sire. I will see you at lunch today."

"I'll come find you after I eat, and we'll spend the day together. I'll help, too!"

"No, Sire," Zexion said firmly, frowning. "A prince cannot do a slave's work." Roxas frowned, looking down at his legs and Zexion sighed, shaking his head. "I wish you a good morning, Sire."

"You as well," came the customary reply. Zexion smiled as Roxas leaned over and grabbed his tray, eating the candy-glazed carrots. He then turned, walking out as the guard held the curtain for him and he turned to go back downstairs. He met Kairi at the stairs, and she was frowning.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm scarred for life."

"Why's that?"

Kairi gagged, looking up at Zexion with wide eyes. "It's so _disgusting_ walking in on the Queen when she's at it with the Royal Guard's commander!"

Oh.

….

Ew.

* * *

He remembered very clearly the day he was put into the cage.

It had been the most frightening experience in all of his life. He had been stripped of his clothes, whipped into silence, scrubbed until his skin was sore red and then thrown into the dustiest, dirtiest cage with 20 other boys in the scorching heat of the South. He sat there, eyes wide as he watched the other boys, all naked and dirty, playing with each other, looking longingly out the bars, or beating each other senseless. He pushed himself away from a fight, he was sure of it, pressing his back against the hard, hot metal bars. He remembered the cage burning his skin, but he didn't make a sound. He didn't want to be seen.

Each day was the same after that. He would stick to the walls of the cage, finding shade whenever he could so that he could cool down. The other boys would look at him, find him boring, and go back to what they were doing. One or two talked to him. He remembered a big boy sitting with him for a while, making sure others didn't bother him with a forced glare from his quiet blue eyes. His red hair made him stand out amongst the others, marking him as a boy from the East. He didn't smile, he didn't talk, but he felt like he was his best friend.

He disappeared after that.

Boys would be dragged out every day, sporadic numbers at a time. They would be gone for what seemed like hours, and then sometimes they would come back. Sometimes they wouldn't. He didn't understand at first, not knowing what was going on. Why couldn't he go back to Mother? Where was his friend? Where was Father?

He remembered the first day he was dragged out.

The gnarled man came hobbling into the cage, the other boys pressing their backs against the wall away from him. Zexion watched him with wide eyes full of terror as he was forcefully dragged up and shoved out of the cage. He stumbled to his knees, panting and holding back tears when he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he saw cold green eyes looking at him. Eyes of a rich man from the North stared at him, his hair bright silver and his stance proud and tall. A military man it seemed, maybe even a general. He looked down quickly when those green eyes caught him staring.

'A little thin for this, don't you think?'

His voice was regal and powerful, demanding respect.

'He'll turn to be a good bed warmer, sir, I'm sure of it. He's feminine, real pretty. Almost has the face of a girl.'

The gnarled man's voice made his ears ache and he winced as he heard him.

'Mm, yes he does, doesn't he? Yet…Too young. Too thin. Perhaps another day. Could you keep him?'

The voice sounded thoughtful, and he wanted to know what they were talking about.

'For as long as I can. A higher bidder comes though and he's gone, sir.'

The man's voice sounded entirely too pleased.

'If it is the Queen, I'm sure she wouldn't mind my visit. After all, we're very close. She would lend him to me, I know that much.'

'The Queen, sir? He really that worth it?'

'Can you not see it? He's beautiful. Perfect in every way. She would be a fool not to want him. She is, after all, the greediest thing you'll ever meet.'

The two shared a laugh, mixture of harsh and smooth. He was so confused. What was going on?

* * *

"Zexion?"

The slave blinked, looking over at Roxas as he walked beside him. He was a fair few inches shorter than him, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. Zexion sighed, looking up and shifting the large, round bowl he carried on his hip for water. "Yes, Sire?"

"You looked thoughtful for a second. What were you thinking about?" Roxas sounded curious, and genuinely interested. Zexion wondered, not for the first time, it the blonde haired youth truly saw him as a friend.

"A fantasy, Sire, nothing important at all." He glanced at the boy, who frowned suspiciously before he nodded, hopping as he walked. "You seem to be in high spirits, Sire."

"I am! The festival is happening next week! Seven days straight of pure entertainment, all because Mother is aging another year!"

"It is very important. The Queen's birthday is a high celebration. The king usually celebrates it much like this every year."

"He can't this year though, can he? Because he's at war with the North." Roxas pouted, making Zexion smile in pity for the boy. He was so important and mature, yet childish and sweet as well. How did he live such a life with his attitude?

They stopped by the well, a dark stone hollow circle with water filling it deep under ground, up until it reached the rim. Zexion dipped his bowl into it, his skin jumping at the feel of ice cold water, before he lifted the bowl with strong arms. He situated the bowl on his hip, glancing at Roxas as he watched him with interest. "Yes Sire, that is correct. Yet I'm sure he's celebrating it on the battlefield. And I'm sure he thinks of you and your brother and mother very much."

"Of course he does! 'Cause he loved us." Roxas smiled, before looking at Zexion. "Aren't you excited about the festival? I hear we've got this special troupe coming into the city just for it."

"I am, yet I shall be with your Queen mother, serving her wine for the evenings."

"What?!" Roxas' eyes were wide and incredulous. His mouth hung open like a fish out of water, and he seemed so surprised at this news that he completely forgot about walking. "That's…That's not right!"

"It's how it works, Sire. I am a slave, bought by your Queen mother. To have a day's rest would be foolish."

Roxas frowned, shaking his head. "It still isn't right. I mean, you work so hard every day. You do all the things no one else wants to do; you muck out the stalls, you take out the trash, you burn any of the dead animals and flowers, and you serve my mother each and every day. That's got to be a handful."

"It's life, Sire," Zexion said softly, walking into the palace towards the kitchen. "I rather enjoy my life."

"Even though you aren't properly treated?

"And how, Sire, should a slave be treated?" Zexion asked softly, putting the bowl of water on the counter for Cid. Cid grumbled his gruff thanks, getting to work on lunch. "With respect? With dignity? Shall I look you in the eye and speak to you as I would an equal?" He smiled, shaking his head. "No Sire, that isn't how you treat a slave. I get the treatment my rank is meant to have. Just as you get the treatment your rank is meant to have…" He paused, looking at Roxas' arm as he thought. "Which means…You should be in lessons, correct Sire?"

Roxas grinned sheepishly, Zexion seeing it in the corner of his eye. "How'd you guess?"

"I know your schedule; I've forced myself to memorize it so that I can send you on your way. Music lessons with my Lady Aerith. Don't keep her waiting, Sire."

"Oh fine, fine." Roxas sighed, smiling. "Can I see you later?"

"Of course; I'm here to serve you, I come at your word." Zexion bowed, and he heard Roxas sigh, before glancing up to see Roxas jogging towards his lessons. Zexion smiled, standing up and glancing over at Cid to see him staring at him quietly. "Yes Cid?"

"A message fer ya," Cid muttered, jerking towards a piece of paper. "Y'know how ta read, don'tcha?"

"Yes…" Zexion frowned, walking over to the note and picking it up. He looked at it curiously, before opening it, grey eyes scanning the words. His shoulders dropped as his eyes dulled, and he sighed, pushing back blue/grey hair from his face. The letter dropped to the ground. "Of course. Thank you, Cid."

"Kid, you don't have ta do anything, ya know."

"What are you talking about Cid? Did you not just hear me explain to Prince Roxas?" Zexion glancing at him, a thin, tired smile on his face. "I am not treated like a person. I am just an object to be used by others. Now excuse me. I must not keep General Sephiroth waiting. He will get impatient."

Zexion then turned, walking out of the room before Cid could say anything else.


	2. The Circumstances

A/N: Hey there anyone who reads this! I have finally decided that I should probably update this thing. Now then, this is just a little chapter, but it explains some more about Zexion, gives you a bit more about the life he really lives there, and also gives you hints at others stories that will be told. It will also probably give you more questions than answers. However! I think I did that purposely. Eheh. So, I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts (II, CoM) Characters belong to Square Enix.

* * *

He remembered meeting the man he wanted to be bought by.

He was tall, lanky, with a grin that spoke of mischievous things. He looked fun, and really friendly, uninterested in what all the other buyers were interested in. He had learned what 'bed warmer' had meant when he was pulled out in front of people three more times, all male, looking at him like a piece of meat. The talk between the buyers and the gnarled seller helped, too.

When he had been dragged in front of the redhead, he fell to his knees. The old man had pushed him forward and he had been growing weaker every day as he refused to eat. He thought maybe if he was too thin, nobody would buy him. When he landed, he hissed under his breath, and the man in front of him went up to the stage he was placed on for the showing, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at him with wide eyes.

Blue eyes, light and almost green, looked at him with worry and kindness. He looked concerned. 'Hey they, kiddo. You okay?'

He stared at him with wide eyes. Why was he talking to him?

'Hey, old man! What's with the malnourished look to him! I thought you said you made sure they were well fed.'

His voice sounded angry, but not at him. No…He was angry at the seller.

'I feed 'em every day, sir,' the old man rasped. The red haired man looked at him then, squeezing his shoulder with a smile.

'That true?'

Slowly, he looked up at him. He wanted to lie so he wouldn't get hurt, but he wanted to tell the truth, too. He didn't say anything, and the redhead frowned a little.

'How much is he?'

His eyes widened in surprise.

'Eh?' the old man sounded confused for a minute before thinking. 'Ehh…20 rupees.'

The redhead raised his eyebrows.

'Expensive little guy, aren't you?' he asked the boy, smiling at him before turning to look at the gnarled man again. 'I'll pay 15.'

'20.'

'15 rupees and two gold bars. You know how rare gold bars are.'

There was a pause, before the man scowled.

'You're bluffing.'

'Am I?'

Another silence, before he looked over to see the gnarled man seriously considering. He then sighed, looking at the redhead with regretful eyes. Not because he was selling his prettiest boy, though.

'Sorry, sir. He's on hold.'

* * *

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Looking around, he saw that the room was empty, and he sighed slowly sitting up. He hissed as a pain shot through his back, wincing before ignoring it and slipping out of the silk covered bed. He looked around the luxurious room for a moment before picking up and tying his long garment around his waist, brushing back his hair. The room was immaculate; the General had cleaned up before he'd left. He glanced uncaringly around the room for a note, noted that there wasn't one then left. Walking down the halls, he bowed his head passing the soldiers. They stared at him, trying to see his face and wondering why he was there in the first place. They all wondered why he was down here on the odd day, but he never told them. They could order him, but he was not allowed to say a thing. The General ordered his silence, and he followed the General.

Quickly leaving the soldier quarters, he walked down the halls with the courtiers and servants. Even the servants stared at him as if he was dirt, but he was a slave and that was normal. He was a slave, and he had to accept that he was dirt. He was lower than dirt.

He was the worms.

He entered the servant/slave halls, walking with his head raised again. No one spoke to him as he walked; none asked why he walked with a limp, why his hair was in tangles, why he had bruises developing on his sides and shoulders. They knew better by now than to ask him those questions. He wouldn't say. He was sworn to silence.

Turning a corner, he paused, watching with curious eyes as Lady Aerith, the princes' music teacher, spoke quietly to Cid. Cid looked around, catching sight of him, before pointing at him and Lady Aerith looked over. Her eyes brightened as she caught sight of him and she smiled, mouthing out some sort thanks before marching over to him. He nodded his head in respect as she neared him, eyes lowered to the ground. "M'lady,"

"Zexion," she spoke clearly yet kindly. He looked at her feet, waiting for her to continue. "The Queen wishes for you to come with her for a moment. I think she wants to show you something…"

"My Queen does?" Zexion asked, looking up to her shoulder curiously. He saw the woman's brown hair bob as she nodded, before her slim hand took hold of his equally slim wrist, dragging him behind her as she turned back to the halls he'd just left. She let go of him after a while, assured he wasn't going to try and bolt as she led him up stair cases. He glanced around to get a bearing of where he was, noting that he was nearing the Queen's private wing that even the King didn't go near when he was home. Aerith then stopped in front of a large set of double doors, stepping aside. "Go in. She's expecting you. I've got to hurry and find Prince Cloud before he disappears somewhere and avoids my lesson!"

"Might I suggest, m'lady, that you try the third Gardens?"

"Hmm…You may. Thank you Zexion." He guessed she smiled—he could hear it in her voice—before she walked away. He stood for a moment awkwardly, before pushing the doors opened and walking in. He glanced up to see where he was and his stomach plummeted. Of course. Of course the Queen would want him to come to these rooms so that she could confide to him as she always did. He was the only one she confided to. He was the only one she deemed safe enough to keep her secrets, as he was sworn to silence.

Taking in a quiet breath, Zexion walked to the Queen's side, kneeling down and bowing his head respectfully. There was a silence for a moment, before a cream-coloured hand, slim and regal, touched his shoulder to show he was acknowledged. He lifted his head then, staring at the line-up of young men as they stood quietly, ready to be inspected.

"These are my new…companions," she said, her voice low and soothing, though there were times when she could sound cruel and callous. He didn't often concentrate on those memories. He nodded to show he heard her and she continued. "I don't need so many right now, so I thought it only appropriate that I should find you, so that you can help me decide which ones would be best suited to staying." She touched his head, indicating he could stand and he did so slowly, keeping his eyes lowered. "Well? Your thoughts?"

"Your Majesty, I do not know if I would be the right person to turn to when it comes to whom you choose as your lovers. I am a simple slave, bound to serve you loyally and silently." He paused, biting his lip and the Queen made a noise for him to continue. "I do not think I have the right…qualifications to help you choose whom you wish to warm your bed."

"Well, that's silly isn't it?" The Queen laughed, touching Zexion's cheek and his grey eyes briefly flicked over her face, showing light blonde hair that her son's shared and wicked green eyes that he hated looking into on his worst days. He lowered his gaze again as she spoke. "Zexion, you were chosen because you make a wonderful bed warmer. Exactly what these young men will do. You know what I like and I do not. You know _exactly_ what I like and do not like." She paused and he waited. "You also know what the General enjoys. I trust you to choose wisely. I leave you to this task. You have two hours to work. I will send a servant to come get you when your time is done." She then smiled—he could see some of it from the corner of his eye—before she turned and left. The two servants she had with her followed her silently, looking at Zexion as if he were something dirty and foul. He thought himself dirty and foul, too.

Sighing once the doors closed, he lifted his head, turning to look at the young men as they stood there, shuffling their feet and looking at the ground nervously. They were positioned in a line much like slaves, which made his stomach clench uncomfortably, before he sighed again, placing a hand on his hip and cocking his head at them. "Please don't look so nervous. Nothing about what I was requested to do will make you uncomfortable. You are free to speak to me, insult me, and talk amongst yourselves. You are not slaves like me." He frowned, watching as they slowly started to relax. "Alright…I suppose we'll begin if you're ready."

Smoothing out his garment, he walked forwards towards the end of the line were a sullen blonde stood, his lip protruding in a pout. Before he reached him, though, he was stopped by a painfully familiar voice.

Turning quickly, his eyes widened as he saw the form of a well muscled brunet with a scar that ran between his eyes, veering to the left as if someone had taken a sword to his face. He remembered when Leon had gotten that scar very strongly, as it had been the day he had met the young soldier-in-training.

Suddenly he knew the true reason why the Queen wanted him to look over these new potential lovers. It was because she knew that he would find Leon.

The Queen was truly cruel.

"I see you haven't changed too much, Zexion. Though, I think you've gotten thinner. Have you been eating?" The brunet raised an eyebrow questionably, his grey-green eyes staring into him as if he were judging his soul. Turning his path towards the male, he walked to him and stopped in front of him, lowering his head slightly in the respect that he couldn't quite shake. Leon laughed then. "Zexion, I'm not more than a sex slave now. No need to bow your head to me."

"My Queen does not take sex slaves. She takes companions. Unlike sex slaves, you are never seen, but you are also treated with higher respect." Zexion smiled slightly though, feeling slightly more comfortable. Leon had been very easy to talk to from when he had been training to be a soldier, someone he had appreciated seeing every day when he walked through the soldier's quarters as he would walk out with him, talking to him and making less of the soldiers stare at him in curiousity. Since his sudden departure, though, Zexion's life had been made slightly more complicated. "It is good to see you, Leon. Though under these circumstances, it makes me wonder…"

"The Queen didn't send me off to the West like she had threatened," Leon answered, brutally honest and cynical. "She had me sent to the South, where a slave seller stayed and kept me. He made sure that I was well fed, kept in shape _and_ that I knew of the plans the Queen had had for me." Leon smiled bitterly then, and Zexion recognized the look in his eyes as the one he himself had held for many months after his first 'encounter'. He frowned a bit as Leon looked away, shifting his feet nervously for a moment before looking at Zexion again. "…How is the prince?" he asked meekly then, looking at him with the look of someone who was afraid of the answer.

"He has turned…quiet. He becomes very involved in the exercises the soldiers go through, and is anxious for the King's return to the capital." Zexion looked at him quietly, sighing and smiling sadly. "Though…Though he does at times speak to me, in the promise that I will keep what I hear in secrecy." Leon nodded, lowering his eyes. Zexion hesitated then touched his wrist quietly. Leon looked at him curiously. "He misses you."

Leon looked surprised for a moment, before smiling slightly. "I'm glad," he said then, sounding it. "Though I wish he wouldn't." He then shook his head, waving his arm to the boys around him. "You've only got two hours for this. You might as well get started with me right. Shall I stand still like a horse then?"

Zexion frowned, lowered his eyes and didn't say anything. The laugh that Leon gave then was hollow and bitter.

* * *

He remembered very clearly when he had first met Her.

The gnarled old man had seemed nervous, fidgety even as he swept through the cage of boys remaining, plucking a few of them and bringing them out onto that hot, hated stage to be ogled at like cattle or goods for sale. That was all they were, really. Cattle. Goods. Not people. He had learned not to call himself a person a long time ago.

When the gnarled man returned with three boys out of the eight he had taken out, he had thought that that was it for the day. So when the man turned to him and indicated with a nervous jerk of his knobbly hands that he was to follow him, he grew cold. The gnarled man had not touched him since the second visit of the rich Northerner that was friends with the Southern Queen. The Northerner had snapped at the gnarled old man that his 'pretty-face' was bruised, and that would not do for the Southern Queen to see if he wanted the boy to be bought by her.

'Stand there, slave, and dun' ye _dare_ look at who's lookin' ye over,' the gnarled man hissed, his harsh rasp sounding nervous and scared witless. He just nodded, staring down at his toes as he felt eyes staring him over. He had been force fed after the visit from the red haired man, the gnarled man yelling at him for not eating the food he was so graciously given. He hadn't wanted to be yelled at again or to be shaken like he had been. It had not been a pleasant experience.

'This is the boy that my dear General says would suit me?' His senses were shocked by the deep, soothing voice that washed over him; female, with a sense of royal worth and great importance. He knew then that this was the Southern Queen, as 'the General' was the silver haired Northerner. 'He seems…young. Though much more fit than what my General told me last what he looked like. How old?'

'He passed his eighth solar cycle just last frost,' the gnarled man answered quickly, his hands fiddling around knobbly knuckles. The Queen made a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat, a deep, husky sound that reminded him of his grandmother in some ways.

'Yes…Young, but most likely very able.' There was an amused tone to her voice. Soft, whispering footsteps were heard then, and a cream-coloured, slim-fingered hand touched his chin, making him raise his face. He closed his eyes quickly, not wanting the gnarled man to be angry at him for looking at such an important customer. 'Shy little thing, aren't you? There now, dear, look at me. That's an order. Yes, there's a sweet pea…' He opened his eyes slowly, looking into wicked green eyes that momentarily shocked him. A shock of blonde hair then came to view, and he was looking into the most beautiful woman in the world's smiling features. 'Now then. What's your name, sweetling?'

'…Zexion, my lady.' She smiled at him, stroking his cheek.

'Alright, Zexion. Do you know who I am?'

'…the Queen, my lady.'

'Yes, dear, very good.' She smiled again, running her fingers down his neck to his shoulder, her eyes contemplating as she looked at his smooth, pale skin. 'Mmmm…so, that means you have to call me 'Your Majesty', is that alright? 'My lady' is for the lower ranked court ladies.' She looked at him, her wicked eyes boring this information into his mind. 'Keep this in mind, my dear. Else you could have your tongue cut out.'

She then turned to the seller, pulling Zexion off the stage and tucking his naked form to her side, where his skin felt smooth silks and smelled strong, beautiful fragrances. 'I will buy him. How much?'

'20 rupees, Majesty,' the seller rasped and the Queen scoffed, indicating to someone to pay. A man dressed in what seemed to be a drape, looped around his shoulder and around his waist stepped forward, giving over 25 glittering red, green and yellow gems. 'Majesty…This is nearly' one 'undred!'

'Yes, because I have found such a beautiful find.' She looked down at Zexion, who stared at her with wide eyes and smoothed his cheek again. 'The most beautiful slave in the kingdom must be mine you know…yes…You will grow into a most appropriate bed warmer for me.' She then turned to the man in the sheet, nodding to him. 'Let us go, then. My lord will want us home in time to sup.'

Zexion followed his new master, stumbling and wondering what had just happened and if his life would improve at all.

* * *

He startled awake, looking around to notice that he was lying in an extravagant bed, smelling strongly of perfumes and covered in silks. He sighed, knowing then that he was in the Queen's bedchambers. He vaguely recalled being brought to her after finding her new consorts, where she then led him to the bedchambers that she had for herself when her husband was not home. He then also vaguely remembered being ordered to rest there while the Queen went about doing her usual business in the Market Place and visiting other notable royals around the palace. He sighed, rolling over and curling up to his side, burying his face in his hands. At that moment, he felt as dirty and disgusting and foul and low as he was always looked down upon. He deserved the stares, the whispers and the sneers directed his ways.

Then, suddenly feeling acid in his mouth, he bolted from the silk sheets to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. He felt sick with himself, as if he could just throw up all the bad and the horrible and the dirt that he was as he remembered turning to Leon after examining all of the consorts, whispering that he was one of them before leaving the room to be embraced the Queen.

He had sold his prince's love…he had given him over to his hateful mother who had threatened to kill him the day she had walked in on them in the bed of lilies in the Third Garden, a year or so ago. He had sold Leon to the Queen, unable to set him free as they had both known his fate once he had entered the castle.

He had sold him, unable to tell the prince anything at all.

As he was sworn to silence.


	3. The Troupe

A/N: Ta-DAH! Finally, another update for an actual story of mine! It's getting easier to write for this one as I now have two perspectives to write from! I love writing from Zexion's perspective, but he's such a depressing guy, no matter what circumstance I put him in. Demyx definitely makes things happier for me to write! And as it's Christmas, I need to have some happy writing. SO! I hope you all enjoy this! By the way, a kind of chart to figure out how to tell the difference from people of the North, South, East and West, since I got confused myself:

North: Silver or blonde hair, green or blue eyes, very pale

South: Brown or black hair, brown or amber eyes, dark skin

East: Red hair, blue or green eyes, peach complexion

West: Brown hair, blue eyes, slightly darker complexion

Hope that helps!

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts (CoM, II) belong to Square Enix

* * *

Quietly, Zexion padded out of the Queen's room through the tucked-away door in the back. This was a door that lovers and bed warmers were specifically supposed to use so that others would not see someone coming out of the Queen's chambers. If, say, a guard or a royal priest saw a slave such as Zexion walking out of the Queen's chambers with dishevelled hair and shaky hands, there would be whispers and the Queen's reputation would be utterly destroyed. So she had to be very careful with her consorts, and thus the secret door in the back.

The door itself led to the Second Gardens. This was a garden of fruit trees and bushes and captured butterflies. It was the only garden in the palace that had a glass-domed ceiling to keep the butterflies from escaping. The door into the gardens was tucked behind a large plum tree, the petals pink and purples and the fruit picked to be used in banquets. None of the trees in the garden were native to the Southern lands, where the weather was harsh, hot and dry. This was the second reason for the glass dome above. With the glass dome, the scientists of the kingdom had devised a way to control the temperature and climate so that the trees and other plant life could grow naturally. It was a very clever invention and one that the Kingdom of the South was most famous for.

Zexion thought it to be an unnatural beauty—something to hear about, yet to actually see it was too strange, too abnormal.

He sighed, placing a hand on the bark of the plum tree and looking at it with blank eyes. He could not stop shaking. It was probably because he had absolutely nothing in his stomach, which was a very bad thing for him, yet he didn't move towards the kitchen to amend that. He didn't want to face Cid just then, nor the other servants like Kairi or Yuffie or Selphie. He didn't want their questions and their fake concerns, because he knew that he was just a slave and therefore he couldn't have anyone worry about him except for himself.

Shaking his head, he wiped a hand through his hair and continued his way through the garden pathways, making his way towards the hall to his room. He would just lie down and sleep for a while. Perhaps he'd feel better by dinner time.

* * *

"Axel, are we there yet?"

The redhead looked away from the road for a moment to the young man beside him looking at him in what seemed to be pure boredom. His lips twitched at the sight of his friend, usually a bouncing, gangly, much-too-tall nuisance, slumped over in the world-known stance of a bored child wishing the road trip was over. Smirking, he removed a hand from the reins he held and patted Demyx's shoulder, looking back to the road. "Not quite yet, my friend. It's another half a day's ride yet."

"But Axel! The cart's uncomfortable, I can't feel my ass, and my sitar is bouncing around probably so out of tune that it's in pain! Can't we at least make a camp for the night? All we've been doing is riding and riding and riding, only stopping to piss!"

It was statements such as these that reminded Axel that Demyx was _not_ a child, but a full grown man. It was way too easy to forget.

"I don't want to be even a day later than we promised, Dem. I know usually we can just go as we please, but that's when we're just going from city to city, earning our money and getting the hell out. Now we're actually hired, and therefore on a deadline. Be grateful I'm letting you guys piss at all."

"I think Riku would kill you if you don't stop."

Axel frowned a little bit as he glanced at the silver haired youth in the next cart over, rubbing a hand over his face. It's true that the entire troupe was exhausted from this journey to the South. They had been travelling nonstop from the far reaches of the West just to get to the kingdom in time. Axel bit his lip, thinking of the invitation given to their troupe to perform during the week festivities of the Queen's birthday, before he shook his head, looking at Demyx. "Go relieve Riku from driving and let him sleep in the back. We can't stop, but we'll start alternating who controls the carts and who sleeps."

Demyx frowned before he nodded and hopped off the moving cart, jumping onto Riku's and gently taking the reins from the silver haired boy. He looked at him in confusion and Demyx smiled, indicating for him to go sleep in the back, which Riku did gratefully with a few muttered words of thanks. Demyx then looked over to see Axel nodding to him before the redhead took the lead, leaving Demyx to ride behind him.

The blonde thought as he watched the road, listening to the sounds of the caravan. There were a few women singing in the back, trying to keep spirits up, while a few of the smaller children and younger girls slept in piles for warmth and a sense of security. Demyx smiled at that; he remembered when he would sleep in the pile, arms around the children as they all kept close to him. It was a feeling of family and security, something which he loved.

Axel had then told him that he had to sleep in his own bed as he was getting too old to sleep in the piles. Of course, this was very true, but it still made Demyx sad that he now had to sleep alone with no sense of company and therefore no sense of family, comfort or security. It was sometimes hard to sleep at night. On those nights, he often played his sitar.

A silence had fallen over the road after Demyx had taken charge of Riku's cart, something the blonde hadn't noticed before. He noticed it then, though, when a woman's soft voice started to sing one of the new babies born in the troupe to sleep.

"_I see you are lying there,  
__Sleepy eyes,  
__Sleepy Head.  
__I see you are lying there,  
__In my arms  
__To sleep._

_I see you are watching me  
__Watching you  
__Sleepy Head  
__I see you are watching me  
__Singing you  
__To sleep._

_Why don't you close your eyes?  
__Close your thoughts,  
__Sleepy Head  
__I will carry you tonight  
__In my arms  
__To sleep._

_I will protect you from  
__Boogey men  
__Sleepy Head  
__No little critter bugs  
__Will bother you  
__So sleep._

_Why don't you dream simple things?  
__Pretty things,  
__My Sleepy Head  
__Dream the most wondrous things  
__I can't dream,  
__So sleep._

_I see you are resting there,  
__Peaceful breaths,  
__Sleepy Head.  
__I see you are dreaming now,  
__So quiet down,  
__And sleep…"_

Smiling, Demyx hummed along with the woman as she repeated the song, watching the road with a dreamy expression.

* * *

Zexion was forced awake by Kairi shaking him urgently.

He sat up and looked at her curiously, straightening his hair with his fingers as she fidgeted trying to say something but unable to just spit it out like she usually did. When he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly she sighed and plopped down on the floor beside him, straightening her skirt so that her thighs were covered.

"Okay. So, the Queen just came to me to ask where you were. I told her that you were sleeping, begging her pardon, and asked if she wanted me to get you; she said no though. So I thought that was fine. She then turns to tell me that you might want to get up though because something big is happening right now and she would appreciate your presence."

"Subtly ordering my being there. Alright, thank you Kairi. Why didn't you just tell me to go?"

"Uhm…Because I was wondering why the Queen wanted to know where you were like you weren't where she expected you to be?"

Zexion looked to the side at this question, lips tightening as he thought over his answer. He couldn't tell her the truth—that he had been with the Queen earlier that day and had left her bedchambers when he had woken up, returning to his own room to sleep—as that would cause her to grown concerned for him. He didn't need that. As he had decided before, the only person who needed to worry about him was he himself. He glanced over to see Kairi looking at him with curious eyes and sighed, shaking his head.

"I should have been up and about. What slave has the right to sleep while he is on duty, after all? Anyhow, thank you for waking me. Where is the Queen now?"

"Uhm…I think she would be getting ready for the big banquet. Are you going to serve her?"

"It is my duty to, and if she wants me there for whatever reason then I might as well. If I were hiding in the back, there would be no point to my being there would there?" Kairi smiled, shaking her head. Zexion nodded then, standing and tying his robe around his waist, straightening it and running his fingers through his hair again. "…I should bathe soon."

"You can do that tonight after the banquet. I'll make sure there's a bath for you, alright?" Kairi stood up as well, brushing off her backside of any dust before grinning at him. "Shall we get to the kitchens then?"

"Hm?"

"I'm serving Prince Roxas tonight, since I wanted to see what the big event was. So I asked him. He's so approachable! Oh, yeah! Prince Roxas would appreciate it if you stopped avoiding him. And His Highness Prince Cloud would like it if you took a walk with him after the banquet. I was asked to deliver both of those messages." She paused, before pouting. "Man, why do you get to hang around the princes so much, Zexion? I mean, I know they've known you much longer than I, but I'm a girl and I'm pretty cute, if I do say so myself. You'd think one of them would ask for my company _once_ in a while."

"I don't think either of the princes is interested in that, Kairi," Zexion said with a straight face, inwardly grimacing when he thought of Cloud with Kairi. He didn't think Prince Cloud would ever be with _any_ woman, let alone hyperactive, slightly irritating but still loveable Kairi.

"Mm…I guess you would know the best, right? You seem to be the person they talk to the most. I think the entire Royal Family talks to you, except for the King of course. Hm. I wonder if that's because you're a slave and therefore you can't tell anyone what they tell you. No…I doubt that's it." He really didn't. "I mean, usually Royal Families don't even trust the slaves with secrets. There must be something about you…something trustworthy. Heh, even I trust you with things I don't trust with my own mother." She smiled sheepishly when he looked at her incredulously. "Well…it's that sense or whatever you give out. You just seem to scream, 'Trust me, I'm honest!' It's nice to see within the palace, you know?" She rubbed the back of her head then flushing. "A-anyway…I think we should get going! The banquet's bound to start soon and you have to tell the servant serving the Queen that you'll be serving her! Come on!"

She grabbed his wrist then, dragging him off, leaving Zexion alone with his thoughts pertaining what she had just said.

* * *

Zexion knelt behind the Queen as he placed her food in front of her. When she glanced back at him, he kept his eyes lowered to the ground. He didn't even flinch when she touched his cheek in a mock of affection.

"I'm glad you're here, Zexion. I thought you would like to see this," she whispered, before turning back to face the man who stood before her. Behind him stood an arrangement of colourfully dressed people, including a man with silver hair and a man with blonde hair and blue eyes. Zexion was staring at them with quiet interest, making sure to make it look like he wasn't paying the least bit attention to them; however, his deep grey eyes were fascinated by the people that held an audience with the Queen.

"We are relieved that your troupe has arrived safely into our borders, our entertaining friends," the Queen said loudly then in her best majestic voice. Queen Larxene had a beautiful voice when she wanted it to be beautiful and commanding of respect. "You look very weary however; was the trip a long one?"

"Your Majesty," the red headed man spoke, stepping forward and sweeping a bow to the Queen. She nodded and he straightened, looking at her with a smile. "We have travelled from the Western Lands. However, we thought it only proper that we should travel quickly so that we might arrive in time for your most highly anticipated birthday and the celebrations that will follow it for the following week." He paused, looking at everyone in the area. He had acid green eyes and looked remarkably like the man Zexion had wanted to be bought by, many years ago now. "We hope that our simple troupe will entertain you and your court and the people of the streets, as that is what we aim to do."

"We hope the very same, friends. Yet the celebrations do not commence until next week. You have a week of rest so that you may all sleep away your weary travels as well as prepare your stages across my capital city." The troupe all bowed as one then, and Zexion looked them over one more time before catching eyes with the blonde haired, blue eyed mane most definitely from the North; it was easy to tell from his light coloured hair and eyes (the Queen herself was from the North; the marriage between the Queen and the King was a complicated one). He stared at the man for a good while, watching as his mouth fell open a little and a flush crawled across his face. Zexion smiled a little to see the flush, making the man look younger and sweet. He then remembered what he was and quickly glanced down, feeling his ears burn.

What had he been thinking? He wasn't allowed to stare at anyone like that. It wasn't proper for his station.

* * *

Demyx inwardly sighed and held back a yawn as Axel spoke to the Queen of the South: a pale woman, who obviously came from the North, yet seemed more comfortable in this dreadfully hot country. He didn't see the appeal himself, as he was already sweating horribly…but he wasn't going to say anything. Once the necessary discussion happened and they were invited into the city properly, they all swooped down into a bow. Demyx took that moment to look at the people around the banquet, his eyes catching onto a young man sitting behind the Queen in nothing but a tie-around robe on his thin waist. He seemed smaller than he should've been, yet tall and regal at the same time; almost as if he could be a prince. Yet both the princes were seated to the Queen's right…

Demyx stared at the man, fascinated as the man's eyes caught his own. They were the deepest grey he had ever seen before, his hair a wonderful shade of he didn't even know. He couldn't tell where exactly the man had come from; he had dark features yet he was as pale as any Northerner. He felt heat come to his cheeks as a small smile came to the man's lips before suddenly his eyes shot to the ground. What was that?

They all straightened then and turned, leaving the banquet hall to return to their troupe. Demyx caught up with Axel.

"Who was the guy sitting behind the Queen?"

"Hm? Oh, that was most likely a slave of some sort. You couldn't tell from the tie-around he wore?" Demyx looked at him incredulously and Axel laughed. "Right, right, the North doesn't keep slaves. They just loose people to the slave trade and 'widower's taxes'. Okay. Well, slaves only have one item of clothing that they use for everything, and that's the tie-around. It's the same in the East and the West as well as the South. The robe is used for a blanket, a towel, clothing, to clean floors and to collect fruits and stuff. Pretty much his all-around useful item. Of course, if it's being used to carry something, the slave has to walk around without anything on, so usually slaves get baskets from cooks or something to do chores like that. Most likely that was the Queen's personal slave; he's likely to be a bed warmer as much as a general slave." Axel shrugged then, looking at Demyx curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. I couldn't really tell where he was from."

"Well…from his eyes…I'd say the South. He's pale, though, but even Southerners can get pale. Especially if they're a mixed bred. Maybe his mother's from the North and his father's a Southerner. It's not like it matters. We'll never get the chance to ask him."

"Why's that?"

"Well, if it's a royal slave, he was bought when he was still a child and grew up in the palace. Most likely, he doesn't even remember where he's from." Axel then smiled, patting his shoulder before walking ahead of the group again, leaving Demyx alone to think.

Couldn't even remember where he was from? That was a sad thought…


End file.
